Page 28 of My Ruthless Neighbor

She smiles sadly. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have to know you to sense that you’re in pain.”

She lets out a deep breath. “You must think I am crazy for crying in front of a complete stranger.”

“Quite the contrary. It shows you’re only human.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Her sad pale greens stare at me.

“Because I am awesome.” I grin. That earns me a small smile from her.

Wiping another tear, she extends her hand. “Can I have it?” She motions to the lollipop.

I narrow my eyes. “Hmm. Let me think.”

She lets out a watery chuckle. “Please?” Her chin trembles. “I want this pain to go away.”

“Here’s the deal,” I tell her. “With the lollipop. You get a free hug. Still want it?”

She nods. And I open my arms. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around me, sobbing quietly on my shoulder. “Let it all out,” I murmur. As I rub her back. And I follow my advice. I let it all out too.

???

Sometimes you need a good cry to release the pent-up pain brimming inside you. I never cried in front of anyone, except for Raleigh and Damian—my foster brothers.

When my mom died, I let the hurt build inside of me. My heart was so full of anguish that it made me numb. I remember the police officers made the arrangements and placed me in a foster home.

I held it in until I was alone at night. That night, I was in a foreign house, in a foreign bed that lacked my favorite pink comforter. That night I silently left my new bed and locked myself in the unfamiliar bathroom and finally cried.

Something had changed that day. I felt my emotion shut down.

From that day onwards, I developed a habit to rein it in. As I continued to live in that foster home where I was beaten almost every day, I realized that I was simply existing. Not truly living. That was a pretty lonely life. And I hated it. I wanted to feel happiness again. But it was hard to find it when I was living in a hellhole.

So I adapted a new persona. My sole purpose of life was now to act as if I am happy. Not to fool others but myself. Things began to look better. Because I was looking at the world with colorful glasses. It made living a bit easier.

The more I laughed, the more I hid my tears. I don’t let anyone see them. But for the first time, I let someone in.

I let my guard down and let this stranger see me. The real me. Who’s not always sunny. The Summer who’s not chirpy. I let my tears loose.

We both were unaware of what the other’s issues were. But somehow… we understood each other’s pain. Without words, we communicated. Through our misery.

Today in the women’s restroom of the mall, we formed a connection. A friendship of some sort that was born by our accidental encounter.

After letting ourselves cry for what felt like forever, we washed our swollen red faces and left the restroom.

We got many side-eyes from the ladies that came to use the toilet during our crying session. Things should’ve been awkward but strangely it wasn’t.

We wandered around in comfortable silence for a few minutes before stepping outside the mall. Our minds were much calmer now.

“What’s your name?” She turns to me as we come to a stop.

“Summer Donovan. Nice to meet you.” I smile. She offers me a soft one in return.

“River Montgomery.” As soon as she says it, her smile falters, and she clutches her Chanel handbag tighter. She peers down at her fingers. The ones that are gripping her bag in a death grip. And her entire body stiffens.

Slowly as if the movement is costing her, she removes the diamond ring and then the wedding band and drops them in her bag. When she lifts her face, there’s a fleeting look of pure agony on her face. But it passes away quickly and she masks her emotions. “I’m River Gibson.”

There’s something terribly wrong between River and her husband. But instead of asking her any questions about it, I simply offer her a smile. “River. That’s a beautiful name. I like it.”

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